Impurities
by XiaoDui
Summary: White must be Danny Fenton’s color . . . or is it black?


White.

It's such a meaningful color, I suppose. It symbolizes so many things at once, and et at the same time conveys just one. Life, purity, innocence, angels, light. Death, the hardships of life, mourning, the 'light at the end of the tunnel'. Lilies – which are white – mean 'life', and yet we place them on graves.

White, for goodness.

White, for corruption.

White . . . for Jesus?

Why did Jesus have to die, anyway? He really didn't do anything wrong, much less anything so horrible to Pontius Pilate and those Romans so as to merit a death sentence. Yet, they killed him in what I believe is the second-most painful way to die (I'm sorry, but the most excruciating _has_ to be a _green_ light at the end of a tunnel, if you ask me). Why? What did he do, to be burdened with the weight of everyone's sins – past, present, and future? Looking back on my own life, I can see all my own sins. My lies, my screw-ups, my evil that still lurks in the far reaches of my mind.

So much sin.

If that's just one person, how could Jesus bear the sins of _millions_?

He _knew_ he was going to die, too. He had to pray to God to make sure he had enough strength to willingly die. Yet, even so, he did. It says in John 13:33, New Revised Standard Edition of the Bible (_yes_, I actually looked it up!) that 'Little children, I am with you only a little longer . . . where I am going, you cannot come.'.

He – meaning Jesus, of course – _knew_.

And he knew _what for_.

He still went to his death, and never fought. Oh, sure he knew he was gonna be resurrected, but in order for that one to work out, you kinda have to _die_ first.

I know _I_ don't have that kind of strength – when I got blasted by the Fenton Portal, I should have died completely. But some part of me wasn't ready, didn't want to let go, and had clung to life as tightly as possible. It was different for Plasmius – after all, he only got a much smaller blast, and in the face versus his entire being. And really, I'm not sure Dani counts, what with her being a clone and all.

I can't imagine the bravery it would take to willingly die, even if you know you're gonna come back.

Supposedly, when Jesus died and was resurrected Easter morning, he opened the gates to Heaven for the sinful human races below.

I'm only _half_ human.

I'm also half _ghost_.

Half a historically sinful race, half _evil_.

I'm nearly twice as tainted, as black, than anyone else.

Plasmius may be evil as a halfa, but _he_ didn't destroy the whole fuckin' _world_ before he turned 30 (it may have been an alternate timeline, but it showed me what could still happen, if I let my guard down for so much as a second).

No way Dani is evil. I'm pretty sure Hell will freeze over, first.

Even amongst my own 'kind', I'm blacker than black.

I'm not sure Jesus covered _this_.

In a desperate attempt to show I was still good – still white – somewhere, anywhere . . . I wore an all-white suit for Easter-morning church. White pants, white jacket, white button-down long-sleeve, white shoes (and white socks, duh), the whole deal.

Who was I trying to prove it to? God? Jesus? The world?

. . . myself?

I did still wear something black; my slender tie looked like ink, standing out sharply against all that white.

No matter how white I look, how white I _think_ I am, how white I try to be, I'll always be as black as my human half's hair.

White against black.

Good against evil.

Ghost against human.

Black against white.

I warred, hidden from the oblivious world, in my mind . . .

. . . until our preacher opened his mouth.

"God forgives all.".

He went on after that, of course, but those were the only words I heard. My mind fixated on them – it was as if he'd spoken to me, and me alone. A haze seemed to suddenly lift form my thoughts; dark clouds cleared, the battle paused. A glimmer of hope, a metaphorical ray of sunlight breaking through.

I ignored everyone – yes, even the preacher – as I stood, working my way up front. The preacher's words continued to rush past me; I didn't hear a word of it. All I heard were those first three words, repeating in an echoing mantra, over and over and over. 'God forgives all. God forgives all.'.

I fell to my knees in front of the cross mounted on the wall behind the altar. Today, the wood almost seemed to glow.

Jesus has me covered after all, doesn't he? He's forgiven me . . .

God forgives all.

I am Daniel 'Danny' Fenton, and I am also Danny Phantom.

I am me, and I am also forgiven.


End file.
